Solitary Soldier
by 6darknd6wingnd6
Summary: oneshot. A man contemplates just how wrong the war turned out. Warning graphic in places.


Cold, grey, wet. That was how anyone standing outside would describe the day. It was raining, dark rolling clouds obscuring the sky above – never letting the sun's rays appear to warm the land. It was appropriate. For on that day, it had ended.

In fact, the whole war had come to an end after the inevitable final battle that had taken place in the area surrounding Hogwarts. In the final days the school had become a refuge to all those it could fit. Families had been sleeping in cold stone corridors just to feel safe. It had been a depressing sight to behold. But it had ended.

A solitary soldier stood overlooking the carnage, the destruction. His black hair whipped in the wind as he gazed upon what he had always considered his home. The castle the grand four Founders had created had not remained unscathed. Walls had caved in and rubble littered the entire area, ensuring it dangerous to walk near. The entire north tower had collapsed toward the end, taking quite a few lives with it – both light and dark.

So many people had died. His nose couldn't depict anything from his surroundings but the metallic scent of blood. The grass looked red in its entirety, as if it had never been green in its life. His robe and boots were bathed in it from his earlier trek across the grounds to look for survivors. Most of those he had found had been dead or nearly at it. Most had even asked him to just end their suffering.

One man he hadn't known had been mauled by some creature – whether light or dark he couldn't tell – and had died pleading for him to take his life to end the pain. He must have been left there covered with dirt, unrecognizable by people on either side. It had been painful to watch, but he had not wanted to do a disservice to a dying man. So he had ignored his stomach full of twists and had watched.

He had watched another death: a woman's. Her eyes had been gouged out during the battle, making her blind and moaning in pain – her throat too raw and sore to continue screaming. He had placed her head in his lap after kneeling in the gore surrounding her. Her left leg had been removed from the kneecap down, torn off viciously by something he would rather not know of. He never said a word as she cried, though no tears came from her wounded eyes. Instead, he cried for her. The warm, salty tears stinging his face as they trickled down his cheeks. His last tear for her fell as she gave a wet rattling gasp of pain before her chest no longer moved up and down from unsteady breathes. Then he had picked himself up and continued walking.

The whole thing had ended rather anticlimactically. All it had taken was a simple dagger thrown from the ground into the bastard's back. There had been no special enchantments to help, no specific charms that had taken months to research. It had only taken a practiced throw with some luck added for the whole thing to end, for the monster to finally die.

But though he had died, it had not finished. His followers had continued to fight, aware that there was no escape. Their lord had been defeated. Some fought out of self-preservation – knowing they would not live if they did not, while others fought for their beloved master – enraged by his death when he was so close to his goal.

Nevertheless, countless had died. Fathers and mothers had lost sons and daughters. Spouses had lost lovers. Nieces and nephews had lost aunts and uncles. Friends had lost one another. The really lucky ones had survived, or at least died together. But mostly one had lived while the other had not – usually the former watching the latter's death with their own eyes.

Another raven haired man walked quietly towards the other. It was silent, both contemplating the horrors that had just taken place before them. Neither really wished to break the solitude of mourning surrounding them and the blood soaked soil they stood on.

"I still don't understand the point. I don't understand why it came to this," one finally whispered into the wind. He had spoken so quietly the other had almost not heard what he had said.

"There wasn't one. You know that. This all happened because of others' hubris and idiocy," he replied with a spiteful tone, clearly upset with the cost said others' actions had cost both sides of the war.

There was silence for a brief moment before one opened his mouth again.

"I believe your werewolf had been looking for you." The other smiled sadly before reaching a hand out to touch the other's shoulder, squeezing it as one of the few signs of comfort he felt the other would allow.

"I thank you for your concern, but he found me before I came here." The other gazed at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Why are you here?" Eyes brightened with unshed tears.

"I have come to mourn the dead. To give my blessing to every man, women, child, and creature who died on this field, shedding their blood to allow victory to those they followed," he stared hard at his companion, "whether light or dark supporter. I mourn for every life lost in this battle of ideals and morals." The previously unshed tears traveled a well worn path down the man's cheeks. The other's soul was warmed at the confession, overjoyed by the thought of another mourning each life lost – not just those on his side. He turned to face the other man and grasped his forearm. The other returned the gesture, hand covering the now dead tattoo of a skull and snake. Both looked into the other's eyes in understanding before once again gazing out at the destruction before them.

The two stood like that for a long while before voices began calling for them, floating up from below the hill both stood upon as others searched for them. Green eyes shut for a moment with a sigh before opening again.

"I should be getting back. I'll tell the others you're busy, alright? Just come back before dinner or I'll come hunt you down and drag you back." Black eyes twinkled mischievously through the sadness clouding them.

"Is that so Mister Potter?" The other smiled.

"Yes. I can guarantee it Mister Snape."

"Then I should make it my business to return to the castle before then." There was silence except for the soft footsteps of the savior before he turned around to gaze at his one time professor, a slight frown marring his face.

"Really Severus. Make sure you come back to us." The other's face was emotionless.

"I will try Harry." The other smiled, brightening his face.

"That is all I can ask for, now isn't it?" Then he continued walking back down the hill.

Amongst the destruction and terrors, a solitary soldier stood, gazing at all that had come of a madman's dream. His eyes leaked sorrow as he thought of everyone who had been lost. No matter what he had told Harry, he didn't understand how everything could have escalated to such a level of hatred and grief.

And all he could hope for is that it would never happen again.


End file.
